


Three Days in the Valley

by toocleverfox



Category: The Poppy War - R. F. Kuang
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-31
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:35:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26165728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toocleverfox/pseuds/toocleverfox
Summary: "[Altan] took Chaghan out into the valleys for three days." - The Poppy War, pg 411Or: What happened during those three days.
Relationships: Chaghan Suren/Altan Trengsin
Comments: 12
Kudos: 73





	Three Days in the Valley

_The terrible fire of old regret is honey on my tongue_

_And I know I shouldn’t love you_

_I know I shouldn’t love you, but I do_

\- Bitter Water

On the first day, Altan said nothing. 

They’d trekked out to a valley, where a river snaked through the fields and strong winds buffeted the mountains that surrounded it. Lone clouds slowly passed overhead, the sun shining down on them as it climbed through the sky. It had taken them hours to reach the valley, and Chaghan was tense with anxiety. 

For some reason, Altan had been quiet the whole time, seemingly unbothered about making the long walk in silence. Chaghan had no idea what was going on in his head. 

He rarely did.

When they finally reached the bottom of the valley, picking a spot close to the river, Altan put down his pack and silently began setting up camp. Chaghan followed suit, preparing his own tent as he attempted to smother his confusion. 

The thoughts, however, swirled around in his head, and he couldn’t stop them. He knew Altan had brought him out to the valley to duel over who would lead the Cike. He’d made it very clear that was his intention. So why was he so silent now? Why did he insist on walking all the way to an empty valley and setting up camp without any explanation? Was he going to attack Chaghan when he was least expecting it? Or did Altan believe he could try and talk Chaghan into stepping down?

Altan of all people knew how stubborn Chaghan was, though, and if Altan wanted a fight, Chaghan would give him one. 

Chaghan spared a glance at Altan, but his back was to him. Being a shaman let Chaghan obtain a kind of power most people could only dream of, but with that kind of power, there was always more to ache for, and right now, Chaghan wished he could read Altan’s mind. He wished he had prayed to a god that would let him understand Altan’s ways. 

Nothing came to him, of course, and Altan kept his back to Chaghan as he worked. 

It was spring, and the valley floor was covered in tall green grass and wildflowers of all different colors. Insects buzzed around Chaghan as he worked, blending into the soothing noise of the river as it rushed over rocks, making its way through the mountains. On the mountain peaks, there was the barest hint of snow where they protruded into the cloudless sky. 

Any other time, Chaghan would have felt at peace in a place like this, but he couldn’t settle down, not with Altan sitting quietly a few feet away. He’d finished setting up camp faster than Chaghan had, and had simply walked over to the river’s edge and sat down. 

Chaghan waited for Altan to say something, to do _anything_ , but all he did was tilt his head back toward the sun and close his eyes. Peace was a strange thing on Altan’s face. 

Chaghan almost shoved him into the flowing water. 

What was _wrong_ with him? He dragged Chaghan out here to- to what? Have a little _field trip_? Stare at some water? They should have been with the Cike, doing their jobs, but here they were alone for miles and miles saying absolutely nothing when they had a million things that needed to be said.

Chaghan watched the back of Altan’s head for a moment longer before getting up and walking away, leaving Altan alone.

There was a small forest in the valley, just a smattering of trees that lined the bottom of one of the mountains, and Chaghan headed for it. He spent the rest of the day sitting beneath a tree, a warm breeze dancing around him, and pretended like he wasn’t waiting for Altan to come find him.

When he returned to their makeshift campsite after the sun had set, Altan was already in his tent, and Chaghan was once again left alone with his thoughts. 

_____

On the second day, Chaghan was the first to break the silence.

“It’s been two days,” he snapped, scowling at Altan who sat across the campfire from him. “Are you going to get this over with?”

The sun had begun to set, painting the sky a soft pink. Chaghan had crawled out of his tent that morning to find Altan already awake by the campfire, cooking a fish he must have caught in the river. Chaghan had sat on the other side of the fire, watching him work in silence. When Altan was done, he’d wordlessly handed Chaghan half, to which Chaghan took without even so much as a quiet thanks. They’d eaten their breakfast in silence, and then Altan had simply left, walking down the river bank until he was out of Chaghan’s sight. He’d only come back hours later, more fish in his hands. 

Now it was almost sunset, and Chaghan had finally broken the silence. Altan had seemed content with the quiet, but Chaghan was sick of it. He was used to someone around him always talking, whether it be another member of the Cike or Qara’s voice in his head. It was always strange when he was away from them. From her. 

Whatever Altan had dragged him out to the valley for, he wanted to do it and be done with it. 

Altan glanced up at him, and Chaghan fought the urge to smack the look right off his face. “You didn’t actually think I brought you out here to fight, did you?” he said. 

“That’s what you told everyone,” Chaghan bit out. “Why else would you have brought me out here?”

Altan gave him an amused smile. “You know I can easily beat you.” He leaned back on his hands, completely at ease. “You’ve never been one to fight.” 

“Just because you’re a better fighter doesn’t mean you would be a better commander,” Chaghan said. 

“That is true,” Altan agreed. “But it’s not what you want.”

“What are you talking about? Of course that’s what I want!” Chaghan stood up, looming over the small fire that separated them. “And I would do a better job than a hotheaded Speerly like you,” he spat.

Altan stood up swiftly, taking a step closer. He was taller than Chaghan and his height just infuriated him more. “This was never about commanding the Cike,” Altan snapped. “This was always about you and I. You just twisted it in your head until you started believing it yourself.” 

And that- _that_ set Chaghan off. Altan’s head was always so far up his own ass he’d lost sight of the sun. How did Altan somehow know what _Chaghan_ wanted? Fury simmered under Chaghan’s skin and, without another word, he marched over to his tent and snatched up a knife from his pack. He always kept it in case he ever needed to defend himself and the rest of the Cike weren’t around. He grasped it in his hand and marched back over to the fire. He swung the knife wildly at Altan. He was right about Chaghan not being a good fighter, but he didn’t care. He just wanted Altan to fight back, to give Chaghan a reason to hurt him. 

“Did you take me all the way out here just to tell me being commander isn’t what I _want_?” Chaghan yelled, pointing the dagger at Altan’s face. “How would _you_ know what _I_ want?”

“Because I know you,” Altan replied, and Chaghan stopped short, his hold on the knife loosening slightly. “I _know_ you. And I know this isn’t what you want.” Altan frowned, running his eyes over Chaghan’s face. “I just don’t understand why you pretended to want to be commander when it’s not true.”

“Of course it’s true,” Chaghan said, but it fell flat.

Altan shook his head. “You’ve never wanted to lead the Cike.”

How did Altan know that? How did Altan know Chaghan’s mind better than he did? The anger in Chaghan suddenly flared up again and all he wanted was for Altan to stop acting like he knew Chaghan because _he didn’t._ He _couldn’t._

“Fuck you,” Chaghan growled and lunged.

He knew Altan would react, he knew he couldn’t actually hurt him, but he was still surprised when Altan easily jumped out of the way. Chaghan came at him again, swinging his knife madly, hoping to get at least one hit in. Altan, however, merely dodged any punch Chaghan threw. He wasn’t even fighting back.

“Fight me!” Chaghan screamed, advancing on Altan as he backed farther away from the fire. “You’ve never held back before! Why start now?”

He jumped at Altan, and this time he was too slow to move out of the way. Chaghan shoved him hard and they both toppled to the ground. Chaghan ended up on top of Altan, and he scrambled to sit up. He leaned back on Altan, his knees on either side of Altan’s hips. He raised the knife above his head, holding it with both hands and breathing heavily.

Altan stared up at him with what looked almost like awe. The grass was curled underneath his body and a few wildflowers danced above his head in the wind. 

He was a Speerly, he was a soldier, he was a vessel for a god, but in that moment he just looked like a boy. A boy in a field that had yet to be tainted by war. 

Altan’s hands were limp at his sides as he stared up at Chaghan.

“Why can’t you just fucking fight _back_!” Chaghan tried to yell, but his voice got caught on something thick in his throat. 

“No, Chaghan. I’m not going to fight you,” Altan said softly, and took Chaghan’s wrists in his hands.

The knife fell into the grass, and Chaghan let Altan lower his arms against his chest, his fingers still digging into his wrists. He knew there would be bruises in the morning. Chaghan let his fingers twist into Altan’s shirt, a small sob spilling out of his mouth. 

He froze when he felt Altan’s hands move from his wrists to his face. A tear slipped down his cheek, and Altan’s hands were warm where they wiped it away. Chaghan felt his eyelids flutter shut for a moment, and he sucked in a ragged breath. 

“You don’t want to be commander,” Altan said, his hands still on Chaghan’s face, his thumb rubbing his cheekbone.

“Fuck you,” Chaghan sobbed, closing his eyes so he couldn’t see Altan’s face through his tears. “You don’t know what I want.”

“Then tell me,” Altan whispered, and his voice was as smooth as honey. “What do you want?”

The valley around them was silent, as if the world and all its creatures were holding their breath. Not even the wind rustled the grass.

“Do you even have to ask?” Chaghan whispered back, leaning his cheek into one of Altan’s palms. 

He opened his eyes and met Altan’s wide ones. He took in the small crease between Altan’s eyebrows and watched the exact moment his expression cleared when he understood what Chaghan meant. Altan suddenly dropped his hands from Chaghan’s face, and Chaghan jerked back, aware of how close Altan’s face was to his own. He stood up quickly and stumbled backwards. He opened his mouth to say something, _anything_ , but he didn’t know what to say. He watched Altan prop himself up onto his elbows, watched his throat bob in the dying light.

Chaghan turned around and fled.

He only returned hours later, when the sun was long gone behind the mountains and the stars were shining like jewels above his head. The campfire had simmered down to a few glowing embers, leaving their little campsite with just the barest glimpse of light in a world full of darkness. 

It was enough light to see Altan sitting close beside it. He turned when he heard Chaghan approaching and watched him intently as he sat down beside the fire.

“Hungry?” Altan asked.

Chaghan didn’t need food. He needed answers.

“Why didn’t you say anything yesterday?” Chaghan said instead. “Why did you wait until I spoke?”

Altan stared at him for a moment and then admitted, “I wanted you to be the one to talk first. If I had said anything you would have twisted my words and used them against me.”

He was right. Whatever Altan would have said, Chaghan would have spat it back at him until he’d riled Altan up and forced him to release his anger. Altan had waited because he knew Chaghan would talk when he was ready. Strangely enough, Chaghan couldn’t find it in himself to be mad at Altan because waiting for him to talk first was _smart._ That was something a commander, a _leader,_ figured out and used to their advantage. Altan had done exactly that. 

“And I meant what I said,” Altan continued. “I don’t want to fight you.”

Chaghan huffed out a dry laugh. “That’s a first.” 

“The rest of the Cike assumed that’s how we were going to settle the commander situation so I played along with it. But I didn’t want that.”

“Why not?” Chaghan asked curiously. “You love to fight.”

“Not you,” Altan said, quietly. He looked away from Chaghan and peered into the dying embers. “I never wanted to fight you.”

Chaghan didn’t know how to respond to that. He tilted his head back and looked up at the sky. The stars were bright above the valley, without the city lights to drown them out. They seemed to dance in the night sky, twinkling in and out like they were breathing. They seemed so far away, yet Chaghan felt like he could reach out and scoop them into his hands, turn to show Altan and say, _Look, they’re like that fire you get in your eyes. Look, they’re like little pieces of your soul. Altan,_ look, _I caught them for_ you.

“You have feelings for me,” Altan said as Chaghan’s vision of stars in his hands faded. 

Chaghan could see him watching him from the corner of his eye. Chaghan kept his eyes on the sky. He didn’t want to know what expression Altan wore.

“No,” Chaghan replied, and his throat felt tight. “I don’t.” It was too dark for Altan to see the blush on his cheeks. 

He wished he could pause time and go to the Pantheon and try to understand his future, try to figure out what would become of him if Altan knew the truth, if he didn’t already. But gods could not help him now.

“I know you do,” Altan said, and he didn’t sound angry. “Why lie?”

_Because I’m afraid of your answer._

“Because it’s foolish,” Chaghan said instead. 

“Is it?” Altan asked, and something in his voice made Chaghan turn and look at him.

Altan’s eyes roamed Chaghan’s face for a moment. They were so close that Chaghan could feel Altan’s breath on his face, could see the stars reflected in his eyes. He didn’t know when they had moved closer. And then Altan was dragging Chaghan into a bruising kiss that felt as hot as the fire Altan controlled. 

Later, Chaghan followed Altan into his tent and let him drag his fiery hands over his bare skin, sighing at the touch.

That night, Chaghan slept better than he had in years. 

_____

On the third day, Altan took Chaghan’s hand in his own. 

They had packed up their things, ready to make the long trek back. They’d stopped on top of one of the mountains, watching the lush valley below them. If Chaghan squinted, he could make out where their camp had been, the small black dot of the campfire barely visible. 

_We could stay,_ Chaghan thought. _We could stay here for one more day and pretend the rest of the world doesn’t exist._

He banished that thought as quickly as it came. They couldn’t forget about their duty and go frolic in a field. 

But, oh, how he desperately wanted to in that moment.

“I can’t promise you anything,” Altan said, his hand rough where it rubbed against Chaghan’s. 

“I know,” Chaghan said. 

And he did know, though he desperately wished he didn’t. They were shamans. They were part of the Cike. Their lives were not their own and it was likely they would not be around for much longer. They would either die in combat or go insane.

But in that moment Chaghan wondered what their lives would have been like if they’d grown up differently. If war hadn’t plagued them from the moment they’d entered the world. If they were the versions of themselves that they could have been. 

“Oh, one more thing,” Altan said, letting go of Chaghan’s hand to pull out a flask from his pack. “You’re going to need water for this.”

“For what-”

Altan reached over and set Chaghan’s hair on fire.

Chaghan screeched and was instantly doused by the water in the flask. He ran a hand through his wet hair and shot a glare at Altan, no doubt looking like a drowned rat. 

“What is _wrong_ with you?”

“I have to make it seem like we fought. This was the only way to do it without hurting you,” Altan said, holding back a smile. “I could burn off your eyebrows to make it more believable, if you’d like.” 

“Try it and I’ll gut you.” 

Altan shrugged. “You don’t look too bad with black hair.”

“My hair’s _black_?” Chaghan sputtered, touching his short hair as if he could tell the color just from feeling it.

Altan gave him a soft laugh, barely even a laugh really, more like a puff of air. But Altan rarely laughed, and Chaghan stopped the frantic feel of his hair to stare at him. He was smiling, his eyes crinkling slightly in the corners. 

Chaghan’s heart thudded hard in his chest. The things he would do to make sure Altan never stopped smiling.

“Stop touching it,” Altan said, and pulled Chaghan’s hand down to thread it between his own again. “It looks fine.”

Chaghan rolled his eyes, but there was no heat in it. He should have been angry at Altan, but he couldn’t find it in himself to be. That scared him. 

Altan stepped closer, wiping Chaghan’s wet hair away from his forehead. “If I’m to be the Cike commander, will you follow my orders?”

_Of course. Forever. Always._

“Yes,” Chaghan said, like it was the simplest thing in the world. 

Maybe it was.

Altan nodded. “When we get back you’ll have to act like you’re mad at me for being the new commander,” he said. He gave Chaghan a smug look. “I hope that isn’t too hard for you.”

“I’m a good actor,” Chaghan said.

“Oh, I know. It can be hard to read you.”

Chaghan hesisted, then said, “But you figured it out.”

Altan looked from Chaghan’s lips to his eyes. He did not blink and Chaghan felt like he was burning under his gaze as Altan slowly leaned in. With his lips inches from Chaghan’s, he whispered, “Yes. I suppose I did,” and then kissed him on the mountaintop. 

_____

In the end, Chaghan should have known that what they’d had would never last. The world was cruel to people like them. Altan was gone and he was never coming back, and all Chaghan could do was rinse the ash from his mouth and carry on. 

But something always ached, deep inside of him, like a fire that had never truly gone out.

**Author's Note:**

> I finished The Dragon Republic and then saw there were only 2 fics for these two so I thought I'd fix that. Please take this as my contribution to the Poppy War fandom.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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